Sea Sickness
by The-madness-linked-to-a-hat84
Summary: Killian has managed to persuade Jefferson to join him on the high seas and show him 'parts' of his old life - seeing first hand that it wasn't all the glamour the books often made it out to be. The have been warned top take care of the minor on board so no gutting fish or obscene tails. though it looks like Jefferson is pulling a disappearing act. Is the newly formed relationship
1. Set The Sails

Normality seemed stranger by the day, long gone were the minor grumbles regarding the curse, people had now, long accepted who and what they were in the past; while few, claimed they never changed. Killian Jones or preferred my his more colourful moniker Captain Hook stood proud at the helm of his ship watching over his crew with enquired observation. Too long had it been since there last journey, allowed to wander the streets and dare he say it? Acquiring more civil means of creating wealth and prosperity? None like the riches they once pulled in, plundering lands and showing the women there what /real/ men were made of. Yes - a lot had indeed changed.

Smee, for all purposes had returned to his snivelling cohort, he was hardly proclaimed the most trust worthy, picking up any deal in which his life would be spared but he knew where his loyalties laid.

"Alright men! Stand to attention" with a captivating smile, Killian signalled his hook towards port side of the ship towards the established gangplank. A cloak covering a petite frame taking, measured well placed steps stood solemnly near the edging of the entrance as if waiting for permission to come fully aboard, a darkened shadow towered over her almost over protectively. "This is Lady Grace and her Father, Jefferson -" Shoulders rolled back, strengthening posture with, arms out stretched to offer an adequate salute.

Expressions fixed and focused upon the pair as Hook waved two fingers urging them to advance. "They are both to be treated with dignity and respect"

"Aye aye Captain"

Jefferson's fingers tightened around his daughter's shoulders, looking around the half circle of men surrounding them, his eyes showing mistrust. He hadn't forgotten how they man handled him all those years back, each face bringing back a hint of familiarity, albeit his own cockiness had attributed.

"Clegg! Hayes! Head down to the dock with Mr Smee here, to gather their belongings and have them moved to my cabin, keep in mind; I plan to set sail before the rain sets in"

Killian's hips moved undulate as he proceeded to the stairway carrying an ostentatious demeanour. Arms already spread as he gave an accommodating bow.

"Lady Grace ... Jefferson ... May I welcome you aboard my ship? She's a fine vessel, served me well just as these unlikely lads. I'd trust them with my life."

Grace chortled, smiling widely as Jones reached over tugging down the hood of her embroidered cloak. His smile matching hers in width and how genuine it appeared to the outsiders watch. Jefferson's grasp loosened, allowing a shy and perhaps embarrassed Grace to return a curtsy. The men previously surrounding them had taken the opportunity to disperse moving back to new or previous tasks, leaving the trio to converse.

Killian's relationship with her father was new but only by the label, they'd had a difficult past as most friendships - companionships did. It was hard for both to admit deep feelings but there was /something/ between them.

\- / * \ -

Their bags were assembled against the far wall of the cabin as they entered. A few home comforts found place on the few shelves and spaces around the room adding a more lived in feel and near the bed ... A framed image of Jefferson and Grace. One more mystery unveiled.

"You sleep here? But where are I and papa going to sleep?" The young pre-teen questioned, a pout forming on her lips.

Jefferson's could feel his cheeks burn with a noticeable red tinge, eyes shifting awkwardly between the pirate and the floor. That first night Killian had agreed to stay over replaying in his mind, shoving his lover out of the bed in a far less then gentlemanly manner to blindly and awkwardly procure some undergarments. From that point on, Grace was made to believe that Killian resided within the spare room.

"Your papa is to take my bed and I the floor. As for you my dear, you're to take the spare room conjoined to my own."

Grace was quick to retort "But – but you're the Captain, we couldn't exp ..."

"And you my dear Grace, you and your father, are my honoured guests. With the history between me and your Papa, I could hardly consider myself a gentleman if I was unwilling to offer my finest to those I consider myself close too."

Grace took a moment to comprehend the spoken words, her father had appeared happier within himself since Killian had made appearance. The secret smile he had only shared with her crept onto his lips as he looked onto the pirate; eyes softening to reveal the inner calm. Tilting her head the twinkle in her eye had not gone unnoticed.

"My papa has had a few sleepless nights because of some bad dreams, I've tried my best to help but you're going to need the practice – he seems too appreciate cuddles when he's upset. Just promise me you'll be careful of your hook?"

Moving towards the stacked bags, the cherub faced pre-teen pulled out a patch work doll, holding it close to her chest while stroking the yellow, woollen hair with the palm of her hand.

Killian was still trying to make sense of what she was had just implied as the pair hadn't officially declared themselves as any more than friends or even as brothers in arms. Jefferson however became fixated upon the doll, watching as the legs swung slowing to a holt. The clothes or more the material triggered memories he'd buried deep – ever so nearly forgotten. Their lives back within the Enchanted Forest. He'd actually remembered making the dress from the off cuts of fabric sprawled across his makeshift work surface.

Carefully laid footsteps crossing the ships hard oak flooring and a tender touch, cupping his tensed jaw, brought the hatter back to the present.

"Gold doubloon for your thoughts -"

Jefferson shook his head, regaining some composure. "Hmm? ... Where's Grace?"

"Checking out her room, I promised I'd teach her how to sail the ship once we'd cast off, funny how her smile reminds me of the rare ones I can coax out of you!" Absently leaning in closer the pirates breath swept over the other mans cheek, his lips lingering mere inches away taunting the hatter to react. "While you ... I've other things in mind."

A meek knock teetered at the door followed by a dragged out creak as it slowly opened. A stocky rotund

individual, hidden beneath a red stocking cap peered around, quickly averting his eyes on witnessing the occupants in an almost questionable position.

"C-c-captain? The men are awaiting your order to set sail."

Straightening his posture with an almost audible hiss, Killian tugged upon his tunic ironing out the creases forming within the material. Waving two fingers he beckoned the snivelling inferior closer.

"One word out of you about what you have witnessed Mr Smee and I shall see to it they will be the last to pass your lips. Do I make myself clear?! ... Now alert the men, we sail with the tides and their captain shall be with them post hast."


	2. What Are You Telling Me?

The sea was at its best, calm and merciful, creating a subtle to and fro sway. The motions however, proved to have a 'nauseating' effect to those unused to the gentle wave. The walls of the lower deck acting as a valuable aid, as the Hatters open hand slid along the wooden panels, steadying his posture as he focused upon his breathing.

The queasy feeling within the pit of his stomach calmed with the well rehearsed breathing technique. Inhaling slow, deep breaths through his nose and drawn out breaths pushing through his barely parted lips. It was one of the few valuable things Rumple had taught him when jumping through portals. His first attempt was best forgotten but all involved.

Stumbling across the ships kitchen the overwhelming stench of raw fish engulfed his senses, encouraging the contents of his stomach to prepare for the final act. The cook, who was certainly no gourmet chef, wore a fiendish smile, as he brought down the sturdy cleaver with resounding force. Mouths left agape, the dismembered heads rolled freely across the table top; its lifeless body was gutted and sliced with precision

"Mr Hayter?"

The voice belonged to the Killians henchmen, Smee was it? A short grovelling individual to whom he had found on more than one occasion rather attached to his partners side.

Jefferson winced, thickly swallowing the reflux burning its way up his throat. His back rested against the splinter free wall with an audible thump, his arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen, offered little comfort.

"It's Jefferson-" his voice more than a little irritable at being caught somewhat indisposed.

"Ah yes - my apologies. 'Jefferson' ... I know what I saw between you and the captain - unlike the crew, I don't need to imagine the reasons he was so excited about having guests aboard. But let me ask you this ... How do you think the crew are going to react if this news slips through the nets? The captain's reputation?"

"I'm not sure I follow, what exactly are you talking about? There is /nothing/ going on between me and your 'beloved captain' he was merely checking a complaint regarding my eye." It was a quick minded excuse and one that left a feeling of unease and regret. Surely the nitwit of an excuse of a pirate would be forced to see reason.

"Be that as it may, I'm merely asking you to think about what you're making the captain give up... The ship, his crew, they mean everything to him and I one refuse to allow you to ruin that for him. Despite your excuses, you're hardly grasping his heart as Milah did. Like the others you'll no doubt be another play thing the captain will quickly grow bored of."

The ignorance and blatant disrespect shouldn't have shocked him as much as it did; he was talking to a pirate after all. His chest tightened beyond comfort, as he found himself lost for words is that really how Killian saw him? They had history, sure, but was it really enough to hold them together? They had spoken about becoming more. Pushing his way past Smee, Jefferson headed back towards Killians cabin.

\- / * \ -

With the men addressed and working at their posts there was little to do but enjoy the melodic scenery spanning out before them. His fingers lazily lingered over the spaces within the helm, as his hook hung on lower down.

"Captain Jones?"

A meek little voice carried delicately to his ears, almost hidden with the 'tip toeing' of footsteps upon the ligneous staircase. Skimming over the deck he found himself drawn towards a pair of wide eyes looking back at him.

"Hmm? - To you my dear, it's Killian" Tilting his head, encouraging the pre-teen closer, he couldn't help but smirk. "Step up here – and I'll show you how to steer the ship" The smile radiated across her face, proving the point he put across to Jefferson earlier on how she had picked up more than a few of his characteristics.

"I wanted to talk to you about something regarding my papa..."

Killian stepped back, allowing Grace clearer access, pointing and tapping the ships steering, in order to give her guidance on where to place her hands. Renewed confidence was beginning to shine through, as she held her head up high.

"I am to be maladies humble servant, to which, I'd be inclined to help you in any way that I can." His fingers moved to help steady the helm, "just hold the steering there ... aaaannnndd – perfect, you're a born natural' just what exactly are you wanting up discuss?"

"Did he appear strange to you? Like back when we boarded and your crew gathered around. He just seemed more 'protective' and I know you noticed it too. I saw it in your face."

The pirate pursed his lips, nodding slighting with understanding."I'd first met your father; back when this bunch as scallywags brought him aboard the ship, way back when a man named Liam Jones was captain."

"Jones?! But that's? Was he ..?" Grace couldn't help but chime in hearing the familiar name.

"Aye, he was my brother - but not a pirate, 'that' story I'll share another time... They'd picked your father up, evidently saved his life, after finding him stranded in the middle of the ocean. I was later lead to believe it was an apparent slip up with his portal. He admittedly wasn't given the grandest welcoming, being revived with mouth to mouth from a member of the crew and chained without good reason..."

"Captain?"

Rolling his eyes Killian looked over the main deck, his glance falling over none other than his red capped subordinate.

"What is it, Mr Smee?"

"If I may, sir - A quick word in your ear?"

A wink was shared with the young adolescent, falling naturally into his flirty demeanour, though the pair new differently. Grace had watched the way Killian doted upon her father, the sheer way they looked at one another spoke more than any poetic placement of words. Peering over his shoulder, Killian waved two fingers, beckoning a crewman to leave is solace position of repairing the small fishing net. His open palm swiftly, found its way back, relaxing upon Graces shoulder; his hook remained ever still, upon the top of the helm.

"Clegg here will continue my teaching, while I grant an audience with my associate, perhaps I'll find a moment to check in with your father. After all a captain needs to ensure his guests are feeling well." In fairness it had also been some time since he had last set eyes upon him. His significant meaning behind the concern however, was not to be openly vocalised in company of his crew, at least, not yet.

Descending down the worn down steps, towards the main deck, the pirates light hearted expression took a one eighty turn, a dark scowl focused upon Smee for the intrusion "What on earth could be so important, that it couldn't wait a mere few minutes longer?"

"Oh - not here captain ..." looking feverishly around, the proportioned man closed the gap between himself and his leader. "Walls have ears when it comes to the sensitive matter I wish to discuss with you"

Lofting a brow, Killian rolled his eyes, exhaling deeply. Pushing forward, he walked soundlessly towards the Bow, an undoubtedly, less, spacious part of the ship. His gaze becoming fixated upon the gentle scenic motions of the waves rocking the ship, just as a mother would to sooth her child. Smee shuffled his feet along the decking in a meagre attempt to keep in step.

"So care to tell me what's so bloody important that you had to pull me away from our guests?" his tone was understandably abrasive.

"Your guest – t—the hatter? He erm ... cornered me within the galley; his words were filled with venom, demanding that I inform you to dock the ship..." his words stuttered a he caught the anguished expression crossing his captain's face.

"Jefferson? But that doesn't sound like -" his thoughts and mild protest were abruptly cut short as the stocky individual continued.

"He went on to describe us as a bunch of ludicrous miscreants with not an ounce of meaningful self respect or dignity and certainly no right to be around his daughter."

Killian flinched at the harshness of the words; it was uncharacteristic for a pirate, especially one carrying /his/ darkened reputation, to disclose any weakened emotion. Smee would have undeniably read between the lines, he knew his captain - perhaps too well. Though, it was the cleverly assembled vocabulary that dismissed all doubt in his mind. Only Jefferson could sound as poetic even with


	3. I Smell A Rat --

The snivelling subordinate, 'Smee' found himself pushed to one side as the ship's captain advanced along the breadth of the deck. There was purpose in each step, each foot fall echoing throughout the cabins situated below.

"Everything okay Cap'in Jones?"

A call from an all too familiar, angelic tone forced him to cringe, adding a sting to his already 'freshly' opened wound. "Aye lass -" Killian's voice faltered slightly, "Just a slight matter to attend, I'll resume my teachings once it has resided."

Below deck, a few crewmen loitered within the shadowed halls, becoming more nuisance than valued hands. Slipping past with nought but a scowled expression, Killian showed he had little patience heeding to any of their futile questions and sidelined comments.

"Your portal friend ain't coping too well is 'e captain?"

That stopped the man in his tracks. Looking over his shoulder, Killian's glare targeted the outspoken crewman. His fingers flexed in unison from the tight fist he'd only vaguely been aware he'd been holding. The sensation of numbness became somewhat diluted, with a brief shake. Could it have been his Hatters intentions were less discreet than Smee had assured him?

From the walls came the resonated sound of an unexpected breath, the forearm of the ship's captain moved swiftly, thrusting hard against the unreserved crewman's throat. "Where is he?" venom within the pirates tone struck fear down the spines of the idly stood men as they shared wide eyed glances.

"T-the jumper?—He's ... He's down in your cabin sir..."

Killian moved without another word as Hadley, the poor unfortunate soul, speedily shifted his hands to nurse his beaten neck while his body slid down the wall dropping into a slumped position; gasping for breath through the catch up of coughs and wheezes. After failing to help their fellow comrade, the standing crew, finally appeared wise enough to move out and attend their designated stations.

It was the sudden change in attitude that failed to make any sense and with the quickness of the admission even Grace appeared unaware. Both he and Jefferson had been planning this trip for weeks.

\- / * \ -

The room remained as it was left, all apart from a photograph lying upon his desk, which originally had been hidden between scraps of paper; the image remained unknown to all but the three featured.

Killian's chest tightened while running his thumb over the smiling image of Jefferson, details of how his eyes lit up as he laughed and the defined dimples positioned so perfectly within each cheek captured his breath. At the time, Grace had been back stepping in attempt to join them, while frustratingly 'tried' to keep the pair squarely within the frame.

A strange sound emitted from the closet nearing the back of the proportionally sized room breaking his concentration. It was easily concluded as someone suffering the adverse effects of too much rum or perhaps even the movement of the sea.

With the recent turn of events it shouldn't have been a huge surprise that Hook showed some signs of hesitation as the obscure sound reared again. Moving to nudge the smaller door with the side of his boot, Killian's brow rose at the rather surprising sight before him.

"Jefferson? – Mate?"

Jefferson was sat with his back pressed securely against the wall, his knees held tightly up against his chest supporting a ceramic bowl. The cast shadows showed some kindness, respectfully keeping the contents from view.

"Everything okay mate?" admittedly those were not his wisest choice of words. The door continued to edge open of its own accord, spreading some light over the jumpers face. "Have you been down to the galley? I'm sure there would be something there too ..."

Audibly groaning Jefferson's shoulders hunched over as his body heaved; the mere mention of the dreaded kitchen had what little colour was left drain from his features. Not that the rocking motion was making it any easier.

This was far from what the pirate had anticipated; never the less he still found little reason to disbelieve what he had been told, the poetic insult playing within his thoughts. "You know for a portal jumper, I'm surprised you've not the stomach for the sea."

Managing a weak scowl in retort, Jefferson sighed deeply; his ribs throbbed with a pulsing beat introducing muscles affected by the prolonged stress pushed upon them, lazily glancing over the lingering space while haphazard thoughts filled and swam through his mind. Killian continued the battle with his own troubled emotions, glancing sideways over his partner as he shifted with a pained expression, spitting out the residual remnants into the well balanced bowl. In his heart he still cared, unable to dull the protective nature towards the ill situated man before him.

Pursing his lips tightly together, Killian gave an apologetic look, subtly tapping the side of his mouth before sweeping his finger across his lower lip. He watched as Jefferson's eyes widened revealing through his embarrassment that he had taken notice. Using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe across his mouth, any stray smudges were cleared away then innocently looking up watching for any sign of approval.

Giving a subtle nod, Killian directed his focus towards his own actions reaching to retrieve a silver flask carrying the faded engraving of the king's navel emblem from the inside of his patterned, leather coat. The smell of aged rum filled his nostrils as the stopper cork twisted free. Crouching down beside the hatter, Killian took an honest drink himself, whitewashing the feeling of caution as he offered out the flask.

Watching suspiciously, the ceramic bowl was moved to rest upon the floor, the contents shifted slightly. Though sore and nauseous Jefferson still craved the attention he had become accustomed to from the pirate. Stalling for time he tugged at his coat sleeve, freeing himself from its confines, before nodding in appreciation while reaching for the flask offered to him.

"Heard a few of your 'boys' laughing—I had tried sparing you the humiliation."Raising the flask cautiously to his lips Jefferson took a hearty mouthful of rum, the bitter, amber liquid burning the ill texture from his mouth.

Killian couldn't hide his look of confusion, shifting slightly closer "sparing me? ... Jeff if I'd have known I'd have checked on you sooner. Is this the reason you wanted me to dock the ship? And what you said about me and my men -."

"What I'd said?!" Jefferson's voice hitched at the suggestion, "I was made to feel like I had no right being here, and 'jeopardizing' your reputation even after everything we've been through. We'd talked about this Jones for longer than a while but how could we fail to include the 'feelings' of your men?!"

The sudden fixation displayed towards the crew, like the rest had made little sense. Clenching his jaw, each breath drew at a slower pace, his fingers balled into a loose fist. For all the worlds they had travelled, Smee was right; his uninhibited mumbling finally carried an ounce of truth. Jefferson had 'little' interest in being here.

"I just wished you had been man enough to tell me yourself, that we were headed into different directions rather than you sending your less than energetic lackey" Jefferson barely registered the brief touch as their fingers met, quickly handing back the flask, his free hand reached aimlessly for the enclosed wall as his back slid uncomfortably up the wall, his movements uncoordinated allowing his footing to betray him.

"Smee? But he informed me-"

Cutting his own sentence short the troubled pirate instinctively reached out, his arms steadying the other carrying an offer of support while the mixed combination of rum and cologne enticed his nostrils as their body's effortlessly pressed close. Biting the inside of his cheek Killian looked other the intricate details of the man nestled almost comfortably within his arms.

"I wanted ... still want-"

What words could he use to explain himself and the actions of others while preserving the developing mood between them? Tilting his head, a slight smile pulled upon the heavy frown as the gap between them closed further. The chaste kiss happened without thought, their lips, tenderly pressed together, sharing the hint of rum which for the pirate acted as encouragement to slightly part his lips. His heart race as he felt the other move further into the touch. The tip of his tongue trailed over, the chapped yet soft flesh, his own arms wrapping possessively around his waist, tugging at the well tailored clothing. The kiss was gentle, speaking volumes of what was really going on, as words carried the tendency of being misinterpreted. Their insecurities had been exploited and used against them as thought they were puppets participating within a sick play, though within this trivial moment nothing appeared clearer.

It was Jefferson who pulled away; quickly wrapping his arms around himself, moving back through the open door making his way towards the chair situated beside the cluttered desk. The feeling of unease rejoined the mixture of unkempt emotions. A groan slipped past his lips as his hold tightened in position while a tinge of colour spread across his cheeks highlighting his strong jaw line and handsomely coloured eyes.

Reaching for his satchel with the aid of his hook, Killian was quick to follow; his fingertips trailing along his partner's shoulders in a weak attempt to smooth out the slight creases. "Hardtack sea biscuit? They're not the most delectable substance aboard the ship but will help settle your – illness." His bag as it swayed with an almost hypnotic motion as Killian moved within view of the other, a smaller bag containing misshapen snacks was pulled into view and offered.

The biscuits as mentioned were crudely shaped which played a part in Jefferson's reluctance to sample the pirate's wears, not to mention anything able to hold its own within the conditions he had witnessed and were still considered edible, set off alarm bells. The snack held well balancing between his fingers, the taste test proved similar results – a hard crumbly texture with bland flavouring.

Killian for his part was trying, slipping his knee between the hatter's legs earning a hitched breath, temptation rose to the possibilities of simply allowing the pads of his fingers to take control, lazily inching further up the leather clad thigh and feeling the welcoming stir of his lover's arousal. It was hardly solve or even help matters at this point instead his hand moved to rest upon the arm of the chair to briefly retain his balance.

"Feeling any better? The colour appears to be returning to your cheeks"

The satchel dropped, without notice, settling beside the two men as the ship's captain righted his posture, the curvature of his hook lovingly stroked down his guest's arms while deft calloused fingers paid similar attention adjusting the slightly off centred scarf.

"Hmmm? These biscuits are terrible and ... salty" Jefferson's expression backed up his allegation as he comically grimaced.

Smirking at the comment Killian tilted his head; his eyes wondered over the others expression as he took another bite. "So it appears my 'loyal' subordinate has taken it upon himself to cause some unnecessary conflict, despite his well rehearsed and somewhat convincing act. I owe you an apology; I shouldn't have let my emotions speak over my heart. Moving back to what you said about different directions? ... I don't – wish to be apart from you or Grace. My men stayed behind for me and I've no shame in announcing that I stayed for the both of you."

It was enough for Jefferson to read between the lines, neither showed particular fondness to revealing the 'weaker' side of their personalities what with Killian's rapscallion activities and the hatter's hardened exterior. "What lies between us, remains unnamed and for us that fits. Your reputation /is/ important to you but – I should have realised that I just make you look better!" The feigned look of shock was enough to lighten the mood further as the pair shared a tender kiss.

"Now there remains the matter of what to do with Mr Smee?" a devious smirk crept further upon his features "have you ever heard of the term 'Sweating'?


	4. Have You Heard Of The Term Sweating?

**[Term Sweating]**  
** A particularly cruel form of 'play', this punishment involved the pirate crew poking and prodding the victim with cutlasses, swords and various sharp instruments while he tried to dodge the blows. This was made rather difficult as he was attached to a mast by a short rope. The victim's only option was to run or 'dance' around the mast all the time accompanied by the sound of the ship's fiddle.**

My most sincere apologies on the expanse of time between this and the last chapter, my muse wondered falling upon others then regretfully deserting me for a holiday of its own. Though thoughts of how to word the perfect ending came and went always revolving around the same few suggestions as you are to enjoy.

* * *

He could almost admit to prematurely missing the hatter's daughter, she carried an innocent presence that reminded him of his younger years, back before the weight of the world pressed heavily against his shoulders. William Smee was as loyal to his captain as could be expected from a pirate with very few values. Most would offer up, their own mothers to hear the chorus of gold doubloons gracing their deep pockets, while Smee – he would deliver her, 'gift wrapped' accompanied with an ill written greeting card if he felt it would carry favour.

It was becoming clearly apparent, that to stay within the closeness of his leaders good graces, the portal jumper and the child /had/ to go. From the corner of his eye, he watched as light expressions rushed over the girls features forcing him to groan inwardly, his fellow crew men continued playing the fool, using overly exaggerated hand and facial gestures. "_Imbeciles_" the word whispered, as it focused deep into his broad chest.

**\- / * \ -**

"_Have you come back to teach me more about being a pirate?-_" Grace's confidence radiated not only from her smile but tone of voice. She stood proudly at the helm, continuing navigation guiding the ship upon course, whilst Clegg, the assigned crewman, offered acknowledgement to his captain's return, by means of a subtle nod. "_\- Sam agreed with what you said about me being a fast learner._"

"_Sam?_" Killian's quizzical glance, turned back towards the appointed individual while prudently circling around the rope railing; it was customary aboard any ship to address one another by their respected family name. "_Ah yes, you're already showing talent worthy of a true seam-_"

"_Ahem_"

"_-person, a true sea person._"

The quirk in the hatter's brow matched the deadpan tone signifying a mild annoyance "_You might benefit watching your language around a particular young lady, should we continue going ahead with the voyage, captain._"

Matching her smile, the young pre-teens eyes widened at the sound of her father's voice. "_Papa? Papa!_" The swift motion away from her station, towards an open embrace, was almost missed if not for the sharp jolt steering the ship port side. Cargo and bodies alike, crashed aimlessly against the solid ship walls earning a chorus of groans and barely audible profanities. Thrown within the entanglement of limbs, Killian exchanged a double glance with Clegg before the pair scrambled and fought to regain order.

It didn't take long for the natural motion of the ship to fall back upon its intended course. Grace had taken to ducking behind her knees hiding the tell-tale signs of embarrassment whilst nestling closer to her father's side "_I'm /so/ sorry! I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I just ..._"

"_You just missed your father,_" there was reassurance in the pirate's voice, something that was would catch any other off guard; Grace too if she hadn't taken opportunity to see the man behind the fable. "_\- he certainly has that effect on people. While you malady, have no need to apologise._" Always the gentleman, Killian offered his hand assisting the adolescent to her feet, before flashing a wink towards the disoriented jumper and offering him the same courtesy "_as for you, it appears the rum you partook with me earlier is retaining its hold._"

Jefferson found himself struggling to hold back the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he relaxed into the possessive pull of the pirate's partial arm encouraging their hips to lightly bump against each other. The faint scent of rum filled his nostrils as the out took breath caressed his cheek. "_I wouldn't put it all down to that, though, it was 'lethally' potent._"

There was an abrupt change in both men's demeanour as their attention was drawn towards the recently strewn crates. The subject of an earlier debate had begun pulling himself free in an unorthodox fashion, waving his knitted red cap as some kind of distress beacon.

"_Smee! -_" Killian's firm tone carried across the open deck, drawing the attention of the assembling crewman "_it's about time you decided to show up._"

**\- / * \ -**

The arms of the snivelling subordinate were pulled marginally higher than would be deemed comfortable allowing just enough slack for movement.

"Mr Smee let me tell you how this works. As you are tied to this delightful mast here, the boys are awaiting my command to poke and prod you, above the waist of course, with the pointer ends of their swords. For the game to adequately work and for our amusement, you'll be required to dodge their attempts while Hayes here - plays the fiddle for added encouragement."

Resting his hand upon the string player's shoulder, Killian took in the shared quizzical glances amongst his men as they moved to surround and taunt the man caught within their captain's distaste. No man had been made aware of any allegations leading to such misconduct while at the same time they were not against some lively entertainment.

"B-bb-but Captain Jones please! What was my crime? Hadn't I made it my duty to ensure your trust? ... The Hatter! He's the one you should be punishing; he's changed you, used magic to outwit you ..."

"And he in turn will get what's coming to him, at consequence of /my/ hand." Killian's fingers pressed into the crewman's shoulder giving hint to begin, whilst glancing briefly back towards the stairwell leading towards the lower decks. Jefferson and Grace had been ordered, more fiercely than he had intended, to await his return within the designated cabin; though the following act was considered an facetious punishment, it was still no place for a child.

The realisation that his egotistical nature had created such a means for punishment seemed to sink in just as the opening tune of the fiddle began, blending with the sound of swords being unsheathed. The light hearted tune failed to offer enough cover for the hysterical pleas for help.

Managing a pained glimpse in the direction of his benevolent captain, Smee found himself forced to run and skip haphazardly around the central mast in order to fulfil his newest duty and dodge his comrades well aimed attempts. The humiliation of it all was one thing while the deep burns cutting into his wrists as the rope tightened was quite another; at the very least with this punishment he'd have chance to see another day.

The sound of the men singing began to ring through his ears, willing away the fleeting thought of sharing with the crew, their captain's latest choice in bed mate. His motions began to slow as pain and exhaustion began taking hold, within the few minutes that followed his worn body simply gave in, hanging limply with his head fell to rest upon his chest. With the last of his energy he tightly closed his eyes willing away any potential tears, forcing a sharp hiss to sound through his crooked teeth.

"ALRIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH" The silence aboard the deck was sudden, saves for the spaced out sound of blood dripping into a congealing pool and murmured groans of protest. "Now let this be a reminder to the next man willing to meddle within my personal affairs... The same leniency won't be given and I'll kill the bastard myself."

\- / * \ -

Motioning with a raise of his chin, Killian allowed the edging of his hook to trace lightly over the fine stitching of his partners coat. "Did your father ever tell you about our time together in Wonderland?"


End file.
